


5 times Dom Cobb was a totally oblivious cockblock, and 1 time he wasn't

by involuntaryorange



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Board Games, Crack, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 03:25:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6548704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/involuntaryorange/pseuds/involuntaryorange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dom Cobb either has really terrible timing or really great timing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 times Dom Cobb was a totally oblivious cockblock, and 1 time he wasn't

**Author's Note:**

> This was basically co-written with earlgreytea68, kedgeree, and silverukiss, over the course of a West Wing watch party. Watch parties are fun, you guys. You should come to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy National Scrabble Day!

“No,” Arthur said, shaking his head in disbelief. “There is no way that is a word.”

“Are you challenging?” Eames reached toward the dictionary sitting on the empty chair.

“NO. Maybe.”

“Either you are or you aren’t, darling.”

Arthur pointed an accusing finger at the board. “I mean, SYZYGIES? What the fuck is that?”

“It’s the plural of ‘syzygy.’”

“Well, what the fuck is _that_?”

“A syzygy is when things that are opposed line up.”

“That is the most made-up definition possible.”

“I repeat, are you challenging?”

“Fine, _yes._ I’m challenging your clearly bullshit ‘word.’” Arthur grabbed the dictionary and stood up on his chair so he could leaf through it out of Eames’s reach. “Let’s see. Sympathy. System. Systole. Syver…”

Eames took a sip of his drink while Arthur paused.

“ _Motherfucker_.”

“Such language, Arthur.” Eames pulled his chair closer to the table and brandished a pencil over the score pad. “So, let’s see. That’s one, five, the Z is tripled so 35, 39, 41, 44… and all that gets doubled—“

“Motherfucking fucker.”

“—for a grand total of 88 points.”

“This is _so unfair_ ,” Arthur complained, still standing on his chair.

“Oh, and I get 50 points for using all seven tiles.”

Arthur made an affronted noise and flailed his arms.

“ _And_ since we’re out of tiles now, that’s the end of the game, so — what do you have left?” Eames flipped Arthur’s tile rack over.“Ouch, a J. Okay, so we subtract… 18 from your score. And add 18 to mine. Which makes the final score—“

“I don’t need to know the final score, obviously you won.”

“—Which makes the final score Eames 487, Arthur 273. Good game, darling.”

“It _was not_ a good game,” Arthur snapped from his perch. “You must have cheated.”

“ _Cheated_?” Eames asked with amusement. “What are you suggesting, that I forged the Scrabble dictionary?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you!”

“You brought the dictionary.”

“You’re sneaky! You’re sneaky like, like… a… raccoon.”

“I’m beginning to see why you aren’t very good at Scrabble.”

“Shut up. I am _awesome_ at Scrabble. I just don’t make _cheap moves_ like double-tripling a Z when I…” Arthur squinted at the board and trailed off. “ _Wait a minute._ ” He hopped down from the chair to take a closer look.

“I think it’s time to put the game away, don’t you?” Eames said, reaching for the board.

Arthur grabbed his arm before he could sweep the tiles back into the bag. “Eames. How did you play a Z when the Z tile was already on the board?”

“Hm?” Eames ran a hand through his stubble. “There are two Z tiles.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s only one Z tile.”

“Evidently not, since there are two on the board.”

Arthur jabbed at Eames's chest with the hand that wasn’t still restraining Eames’s arm. “I _knew_ you were cheating! Where are you hiding the tiles?”

“Really, darling,” Eames said as Arthur backed him against the table and began patting him down, “I think you’re taking this sore loser thing a bit far.”

“I’m not a sore loser! I’m a sore _winner_! Come on, where are the tiles? Are they up your sleeve? Are they in your pocket?”

“There are no tiles, Arthur. I don’t know what you’re on ab—“

“ _Aha._ What’s _this,_ then?” Arthur crowed, a hand down Eames’s left trouser pocket.

“…Not Scrabble tiles, love.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Your wallet’s in your back pocket and your phone is on the table, what else could it—” Arthur’s eyes widened. “That’s not Scrabble tiles.”

“Scrabble tiles have _corners_.”

“And they don’t get bigger when you touch them.” Arthur glanced downward.

“Not usually, no.”

Realizing that he was still grasping what was definitely not a bag of Scrabble tiles, Arthur started to withdraw his hand in alarm, but was hampered when his watch got caught on the edge of the pocket. “Shit, sorry.” He wriggled his hand in an attempt to free it, and when that didn’t work he brought his right hand in to help sort out the situation.

“Take your time,” Eames said, slightly out of breath.

“It’s just, there wasn’t much room to maneuver in the first place, and now there’s even less.”

“Maybe if you move your hand in the other direction,” Eames suggested. “Back into the pocket.”

“Right, it could be like a Chinese finger trap,” Arthur said, biting his lip in concentration. “The harder I pull, the harder it gets.”

“Demonstrably true.”

“I mean, the more difficult it gets. To remove my hand. From your—”

“Hey guys!” Dom waved from the doorway. “Ooh, are you playing Scrabble?”

There was the sound of ripping fabric as Arthur jumped back, away from Eames. “Hi Dom! Um, we were, but the game is over.”

“Arthur was just looking for my elusive ‘bag’ of ‘Scrabble tiles,’” Eames added.

“Oh, you mean the one you taped under the table this afternoon?”

“ _What_?!” Arthur yelled. “I KNEW IT. I _knew_ you were cheating!”

“Thanks, Dom,” Eames said wearily.

“I knew there was no way you could beat me at Scrabble!” Arthur said as he emerged from under the table, extra tile bag in hand. “I am never playing Scrabble with you again. God, you are _the worst_.”

“I’m the best at _cheating_ at Scrabble, though, you must admit.”

“I’m going to bed. This whole evening has been a disaster.” Arthur gave Eames the finger as he left the room.

Eames turned to Dom. “Well, that was incredibly unhelpful.”

Dom shrugged. “Wanna play Scrabble? I’m really good at Scrabble.”

Eames gaped at Dom, then collapsed into a chair. “Fine, set it up.”


End file.
